The Corsair
by Songbreeze the Omnipresent
Summary: A very short story based around a song. Everyone should know where they came from.


**The Corsair**

****

It was a tranquil night out on the sea, and the sky was clear for miles around. The _Hawk_ cut through the swells smoothly, sailing south with the gentle breeze. The sails billowed slightly, as the crew relaxed. They had just finished eating an admirable dinner, and were feeling particularly peaceful. The lanky rat at the tiller yawned slightly, and one of the otters in the crew called over to the strangest creature on the ship.

"Hoy, Cap'n. Sing us yore sing, will ye?"

The quiet murmurs of conversation among the crew were silenced abruptly, and rats, ferrets, weasels, stoats, foxes, otters and shrews all turned to watch their Captain for a reply. The odd-looking creature that was unlike any common species was staring at the clear night sky with huge round eyes. After a moment of the silence had passed, she sighed, and looked down at the assembled creatures from where she stood in the rigging, holding on easily with one long, thin paw, her strange tail drifting slightly in the breeze.

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly.

A mutter of approval rose from the crew, and the Captain looked back up at the sky, saying only, "Very well," before beginning a song with a slow, rolling, haunting tune quite unlike most corsair ballads. 

****

"Let me show you an island, away to the south,

Where the sky and the shore meet the sea.

A graveyard lies next to the wide river's mouth,

And it's there starts my story, for thee.

Some seasons ago, I was born in the south,

And both of my parents died later,

They were buried right next to the wide river's mouth.

I was raised with my cousin's young mater.

When I left the old island, I followed the stars,

And drifted by will of the waves.

Until I was found by the corsair Ladar,

Who chained me right up with the slaves.

I began a rebellion, and slew him, Ladar,

Now free, we could sail where we pleased.

The ship she was taken to a country on far,

Where creatures all lived at their ease.

Two otters were all that stayed by on the ship,

My crew was both they and myself.

And we sailed to the north on their very last trip,

And I left them in joy and good health.

Alone on my ship, I renamed her the _Hawk_,

And sailed my course west in the rain.

She was boarded by searats, and 'fore I could talk,

I was chained to an oar once again.

Their Captain was Thalen, a fearsome young stoat,

Who asked 'bout Ladar through and through.

He was pleased to find out that I'd cut Ladar's throat,

And returned my old _Hawk_, with a crew.

So I sailed to the west for as far as she'd go,

Till the crew begged to turn her around,

For the water and food stores were running right low,

And they feared that we'd all soon be drowned.

In the seasons that followed, the crew left the _Hawk_.__

And I let them all go to their death.

They took up with others, who never would baulk,

At stopping an innocent's breath.

I crewed my old _Hawk_ with those chosen by me,

And we can survive, without slaughter.

There's plenty a living to scrape from the sea,

And plenty of gold in the water.

I've sailed to the north, and I've sailed to the south,

But never yet found my homeland.

I pine for the trees by the wide river's mouth,

Where my parents both sleep in the sand.

I was born in a graveyard, I'll die on the sea,

And give up my bones to the waters.

There'll ne'er be a grave for a one such as me,

And nor for my sons or my daughters."

In the silence that followed, more than one of the crew surreptitiously rubbed at their eyes. Their Captain had returned to staring at the sky, swaying gently on the rigging as the ship travelled south. She curled her almost obscenely long fingers around the rigging, and scanned the sky in the forlorn hope of seeing a constellation she recognised from when she had been foolish enough to leave her southern island. Her wide, amber eyes blinked once, banishing the tears that rose whenever she was cajoled into singing her song. The memories, the events that had not been converted to verse were still with her.

Below, the small crew – no more than thirty, and all chosen by herself, regardless of prejudices held by other creatures – went about their business, sorting the watches and retiring to sleep.

In the rigging, the ring tailed lemur stood, waiting. Always waiting.


End file.
